


Pestilence

by caelondian



Category: Final Fantasy Tactics A2: Grimoire of the Rift
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-02 23:51:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11520150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caelondian/pseuds/caelondian
Summary: WARNINGS: I mention corpses and disease and child death a little. //// Adelle walks among the dead village and decides in defiance of her gifts. (Sometimes it is better not to follow your own destiny.)





	Pestilence

Everyone was dead.

It wasn't fair. 

She didn't want to admit the truth.

She should have seen this coming. The white hair, the athleticism and intelligence, the never getting sick... This should have been obvious. And she hated herself for seeing that and denying its possibility.

She still craved to ignore it, to pass it off as chance, to throw the memories away. She knew it wasn't something that could be done. So to engrave it into her mind, she warily traversed through the village.

There were bodies literally everywhere. Piles over there, half rotten as the first to be taken. Piles over here, fresh and still warm as being the last to go. In the clinic were people curled on the floor, eyes milky. The nurses and doctors perished tending to the sick, finally slumped over their dying patients, and taking their very last breaths.

Adelle's eyes filled with tears, but she urged herself to wipe doubt from within her.

All among the houses were children, who seemed to get the worst of it. They were tucked into their beds by their stricken parents, and somehow the plague managed to completely drain them of blood. So many red-soaked beds turned her stomach. Their eyes were sunken, dark, and somehow, sad.

Houses and other buildings here and there were burning, in a desperate attempt to scorch out the disease. It seemed to take them almost in a single night, and everyone pleaded to the gods for salvation.

And then there were none.

When she reached the edge of the town, Adelle fell to her knees and hated the gods. Somehow, she felt that blaming them would take away from blaming herself. She couldn't get away from the gnawing thought that it was perhaps her own fault for causing them ill... that she was to blame because of her many gifts.

She felt as though her parents would be watching her by now, completely innocent of any deity's wrath. She didn't want them to be angry, but she swore to them she wouldn't ever use her gifts again if she could help it. Not only did she never truly fit in, but the plight of the village, while she untouched, seemed too perfect to deny.

And then she was sure she was "special".

Soon, it was easier to become a petty thief and swindling charmer than to live a life of good. The ruffians she hung around wouldn't ever care if they saw her gifts, one way or another.

But she would never use them anyway.


End file.
